A Bootneck Comes to Play
by Notsoancientmariner
Summary: At the end of first year, Harry couldn't keep the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrell and Voldemort before Dumbledore returned. Instead they were able to use the Stone to give Voldemort a body, Quirrell dying in the process. Dumbledore returned and was able to save Harry and take the stone back from a not full strength Voldemort who promptly fled. No prophesy, some Horcruxes.
1. Chapter 1

At the end of his first year, Harry was unable to keep the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrell and Voldemort before Dumbledore returned.

Instead they were able to use the Stone to give Voldemort a body though it killed Quirrell in the process. Dumbledore returned and was able to save Harry and take the Stone back from a not quite full strength Voldemort who promptly fled Hogwarts to regain his strength, summon his Death Eaters, and begin a second reign of terror.

Dumbledore reconvenes the Order of the Phoenix to fight the threat, operating from 12 Grimmauld Place with mostly the same members.

No prophesy, some Horcruxes.

The story picks up as everyone is shopping for their second year supplies.

Michael was feeling very pleased with himself as he approached the counter of the magical menagerie on Diagon Alley. He'd found what he hoped would be the perfect pet for his nephew - the Hellhound puppy would take whatever form young Sam wanted, though he suspected it would end up mimicking the large, red-eyed beasts that he had had such fun playing with at the house since he was young. He waited patiently for the line to work its way forwards, flustered parents with excited children bouncing with energy and cooing to the pets that they had chosen as their familiars that would be keeping them company during their time at Hogwarts and beyond.

He recognised the young woman at the counter, having shamelessly flirted with her on his previous trips to Diagon Alley and his scouting runs for the puppy in the basket beside him. Sadly for him she was quite happy with her current boyfriend and had politely rejected his offer of dinner. Still, he thought, plenty more fish in the sea, and it didn't stop him from delivering his most ingratiating smile and cheekiest wink as he paid and left, prompting a flush of red across her cheeks. Hopefully she wasn't so committed to that boyfriend after all, he mused.

Michael left with the pup in the carry cage and a book on the care and training of hell hounds tucked under one arm, looking towards Madam Malkin's where his sister and nephew were just emerging. Perfect timing. Sarah looked up and met his eyes, grinning and waving as she pointed him out to Sam. The young boy's eyes bulged as he saw the carry cage, face splitting into a grin as he tore his hand from his mothers, leaving her laughing as he sprinted across the street to his uncle.

"Uncle Mike! Is that what I think it is?! Is it for me?" Dropping to his knees and poking his fingers through the cage door to be nipped at and licked by the young puppy that yapped eagerly in the cage.

Michael laughed and set the cage down.

"Well that depends, if you think it's a Hellhound pup, then yes, yes it is. Oh, and yes, it is for you."

Sarah grinned as she approached two of the three men in her life.

"You realise now that any present you buy him will never match up to this?"

Michael looked up at her, the broad grin on his face dropping as the Cruciatus curse impacted in his sister's back forcing a scream from her throat, even as other cries of alarm and pain sprang up from along the street. A dozen black clad and white masked figures had appeared along the length of the crowded street, immediately casting pain and killing curses at unsuspecting shoppers who desperately tried to shield children while finding the fastest route off the street.

"Mum!" Screeched Sam in horror, the puppy forgotten. Michael grabbed his sister, throwing her roughly to the floor and breaking the stream of magic even as he drew his wand. He flicked it at the masked assailant, spitting out the words for the spell. He ignored the horrified cries of the man who collapsed in a heap, every bone in his body shattered. One down.

"Stay down" he snarled at his sister and nephew, casting a shielding spell over them even as he drew the automatic pistol from the small of his back with his left hand, firing three quick shots at the next target, a tall figure giggling with joy as some poor soul screamed in pain still managing to shield the girl screeching in terror Michael assumed was his daughter. Two in the chest, one in the head. Two down.

Michael flicked his wand at two Death Eaters casting torture curses at two red-headed young boys that looked like twins who had been separated from the equally red-headed family moving through the doors of the book store. A woman was being forcibly restrained by several of her children as she screamed with horror as the curses narrowly missed the twins who threw themselves to the ground. A slicing curse took the wand arm of one of the would be torturers off at the elbow leaving him staring stupidly at the fountain of red that used to be his wand hand, even as a piercing curse caught his comrade through the chest. Two quick shots from the pistol silenced the armless wizard that had dropped to his knees. Three and four.

As the twins ran towards their family, Michael banished the shielding spell from his sister and nephew, revealing Sarah crouched protectively over her son, both their tear streaked faces looking up at him in horror.

"Book store, go!" He ordered brusquely. Sarah grabbed Sam by the wrist, keeping crouched over as they sprinted towards the shop, the death grip she had on her wand barely able to make the movements for the shield spell they crouched behind as they moved.

He moved with them as far as the door.

"Inside, stay away from the windows." He pushed them roughly through the doorway before pushing the father of the twins through after them. "You as well." Any protests he might have had disappeared with a gulp as Michael raised wand and gun, firing rapidly at a target that managed to raise a shield just in time against the bullets but could do nothing against the wall behind him that suddenly transfigured itself into a large spike that punched a hole through the helpless Death Eater. Five.

He stepped out into the middle of the street, surveying the damage so far. People had fled rapidly, leaving only those who could no longer run or were still being tortured. Three of the masked characters had realised that someone was fighting back and were looking round in confusion, glancing over the cowering shapes of those that still lived and hadn't escaped and the bodies of the unfortunate fallen.

The three Death Eaters spread out, fingers flexing around wands. Michael settled his weight, shifting his feet slightly to check for loose cobbles that might unbalance him, every nerve tensed, senses tingling for any sign of incoming threats. He heard the slight grating of boots on pavement behind him, glancing to his left to catch a glimpse of the reflection of the street behind him and seeing two more figures taking position behind him.

Almost in unison, the five masked wizards screamed their curses, green streaks flashing towards him. Michael threw himself to one side, coming up gun blazing and wand flashing. Two powerful concussion spells impacted against the shield of one of the Death Eaters in front of him, shattering the shield that had been hastily thrown up, allowing two quick shots from the pistol to punch holes in his chest. Six. Half way there.

He emptied his pistol at the man in front and to the left, keeping him occupied with hastily casting shield spells even as Michael snapped his wand back towards one of the wizards behind him, a thick black cord shot from the end of the wand, wrapping around the man's neck before going taught as Michael yanked forwards, the additional layers of the spell taking effect and pulling the man off his feet to use him as a flail against the two men before him.

With a crunch one of the three remaining men was crushed under his comrade. Seven.

A twist sent the unfortunate man-flail flying backwards into another of his friends, knocking him off his feet and slamming him into a wall with enough force to leave cracks and a bloody smear on the brickwork. He lowered the empty pistol and cancelled the whip. The wizard that had been thrown through the air moments before lay motionless, neck broken. Eight and nine.

The last remaining Death Eater stared in amazement at the man in front of him, nerves showing in the shaking of his wand sweat dripping down his face beneath the white mask. What was supposed to have been a simple strike against families shopping for the start of the he new school year had quickly turned into a disaster. Nine of the group of twelve he had arrived with were now dead and the other two had left him here to face this unknown man alone. If he didn't do something very smart, very quickly, it would be ten dead Death Eaters.

Michael looked at the man in front of him waiting for him to make the first move, keeping his breathing calm and even despite the adrenaline coursing through his body.

With a sudden crack, his opponent apparated away and Michael relaxed ever so slightly, holstering his wand and replacing the spent magazine before stowing the pistol.

He glanced around the now deserted street at the destruction that had been caused in part by him with a grim smile of satisfaction before turning back towards the bookstore. He knocked on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"All clear!" Michael heard cries of relief replace the panicked whimpering as the redheaded man poked his head out to survey the street, wand gripped firmly in hand. He pushed passed him, missing the expression of amazement on his face as he saw that the number of black-robed and white masked bodies on the street significantly outnumbered the civilian casualties as Michael swept his sister and nephew into a hug and breathing a silent prayer of thanks.

"You ok?" he asked gently, ruffling his nephews hair and resting a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. The young boy nodded, eyes wide, looking up at his uncle with amazement, the hellhound pup now clutched to his chest licking at his face.

"Did you manage to get them all uncle Mike?" He forced a carefree grin onto his face.

"Enough of them that they'll know not to mess with our family again, eh Sammy boy?"

The young lad grinned back at him, instantly relaxing if his uncle said it was ok.

"So can we carry on shopping now? I still need to get my books for school." Michael cast a glance at his sister, catching the slightest shake of her head and the carefully blank expression on her face.

"Sorry Sammy, I reckon we need to get your mum home so that granny can have a look at her, don't you? That was a pretty nasty curse she got hit with." He saw the look of disappointment on his nephews face. "Besides, don't you want to get your new familiar home? You still need to bond with him and you haven't picked a name yet either. And Diagon will still be here tomorrow, so we can come back when they've done the cleaning up and we can get the books then, ok?"

Sam nodded, grinning down at the pup in his arms, giggling as it licked his face and beat its tale frantically. Michael looked to his sister, wrapping her in a hug.

"You alright love?"

He heard a sniff and felt Sarah nod against his chest as she clutched at him tightly.

A nervous cough pulled him out of the family moment and he turned his head to see the redheaded woman, now with her equally redheaded husband next to her, each holding a twin firmly as if to stop them from running off. Off to one side, a group of wide eyed and mostly red haired children were watching what could only have been their parents, a young boy with messy black hair and a young girl with a mousy brown birds nest on her head matching their expression if not their genealogy. A tall, dark skinned man with a carefully composed expression standing in the doorway behind the parents was examining the cowering figures of those who had taken shelter in the shop before the attack. Michael and the man made eye contact for the briefest moments and the man jerked his head, indicating that he wanted to see him outside.

The father opened his mouth as if to talk, but was beaten to it by the twin in his grasp, shortly joined by his brother, each taking a part of the speech.

"Sorry to interrupt..." Said one.

"The Aurors are here you see..."

"... And they'd like a word with you." They glanced at each other before adding with a rush.

"If that's ok."

"Your family can stay here of course"

"Of course, perfectly safe"

"Protect them like our own..."

"...own flesh and blood"

Their parents smiled nervously before nodding in agreement.

He cocked an eyebrow at them while Sarah hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks, careful not to let Sam see them.

"Do you two always speak like that?" Asked Sam. A look of surprise flickered across identical faces. They both opened their mouths to answer before biting their tongues and looking at each other, raising opposite eyebrows in an un-asked question for the other. The one on the left bowed extravagantly and waved his brother forwards while their parents rolled their eyes in exasperation.

"Sorry, force of habit. It plays up more when we're nervous. Allow me to introduce ourselves. I'm Fred Weasley and this devilishly handsome young man here is my twin brother George." He paused for a moment and adopted an exaggerated look of confusion having caught Sam who was looking at them uncertainly. "Or is it the other way round?" He looked at his brother who shrugged helplessly. "Terrible splinching accident you see, we ended up half and half, and now even we're really confused."

"These things will happen" agreed Michael, nodding sympathetically, desperately fighting back the laughter and the twins switched suddenly from morose confusion back to their normal cheerful demeanour.

"No matter!" George (or Fred) stepped forwards and put a comforting arm over his brother's shoulder "As you can see we're perfectly ok now."

Fred (or George) grinned again "fit as a fiddle!"

"Two fiddles!" corrected his brother.

"Sorry, fit as two fiddles."

Michael smiled back at them, noticing the smiles spreading throughout the bookstore as the twins carried out their routine. He reached a hand forwards and shook each of the twins' hands, then their parents, introducing himself and his family.

"Michael, my sister Sarah and my nephew Sam who's just getting ready for first year."

"Arthur, my wife Molly. Our family and some of their friends from school going in to second year. Why don't we introduce your sister and nephew while you speak with the Aurors? Our Ginny is just about to start first year too." Said the father of the group.

"Of course." Michael pulled Arthur carefully to one side, dropping to a careful whisper as Sarah and Sam went over to be introduced to the group. "Sarah caught a little of the Cruciatus before I could break it. Not much, but still... Keep an eye on her for me?" Arthur gave a grim nod before turning back to the group as Michael turned towards the Auror.


	3. Chapter 3

Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt watched the man apparently responsible for the carnage outside as he spoke with the twins and to his family before approaching him. He began to make his assessment, knowing that his bosses both in the ministry and out would be interested in this new player in the battle with the recently returned Dark Lord.

A bit over six-foot, well-built; shirt and jeans as opposed to robes; well presented apart from a light covering of dust from his actions outside; a look in the eye like this wasn't the first time he'd seen action and a calm assurance after the fact that made Shacklebolt envious, remembering the shakes that he usually felt after conflict. Certainly someone to take an interest in. Hopefully he would choose to fight with the Order of the Phoenix in the coming battle against the Dark Lord, either way Albus would want to know and the Minister would certainly be interested in anyone who would undoubtedly gain attention from the press.

The man walked towards him, a grim expression on his face and Kingsley turned and led the man outside, revealing a large team of Aurors moving among the bodies of fallen Death Eaters that thankfully outnumbered the fallen civilians.

"How many?" Asked the man.

"You killed nine, we're not sure how many got away." Replied the Auror, a slight hint of disapproval at the loss of life on his voice. The stranger looked at him as if he were an idiot.

"I know exactly how many I killed. And there were twelve in the group to start with, so there's three of them who escaped. I was asking how many civilians had been hurt or killed in the attack."

Shacklebolt gulped. Not normally one to intimidate easily, if at all, he suddenly felt like someone had asked him what colour the sky was and he'd replied "red".

"Oh... um... Three dead... I don't know how many injured as yet. Normally we don't have a full count till afterwards, once they've left."

There was a short silence between the two men as they watched the Aurors move along the street, casting diagnostic charms and dictating notes to quick-quotes quills. Despite all he had seen in his years as an Auror, Kingsley was impressed at the efficiency with which the man had disposed of the Death Eaters. He sighed, knowing what he would have to do, praying that it would go easily also that he would know what to do if the man stood next to him decided that he didn't like what was about to happen. He turned towards the him and took a calming breath.

"My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, I'm the Auror in charge of this investigation." He took a moment to compose his thoughts into words, noting that the other man had holstered his wand and was standing there with his arms folded. I wonder if I'm fast enough to out-draw him, thought Kingsley.

"Michael Black" said the man, extending his hand with a neutral smile. Kingsley reached for it, feeling the strength in the grip. He met the Michael's eyes, seeing an expression there he saw very rarely outside the senior Auror's bar, and then usually only in the likes of Mad-Eye Moody. This was going to be interesting.

"I'm afraid we're going to have a few questions for you about your actions here. Use of deadly force and all."

The man grunted in acknowledgement.

"You want a walk through of the scene first or can I let my family know to head on without me so we can head straight to the Ministry?"

Kingsley thought for a moment, then jerked his head back towards the shop.

"Let your family know, then the walk through, then the ministry."

Michael nodded curtly and turned on his heel. Less than five minutes later he had returned.

"Lets go." He said, striding towards where it had all started.

Over an hour of on scene walk throughs and four hours of extensive questioning later, Kingsley had everything he needed and was walking Michael to the lift from his office. Despite his first worries and that the man was now training to be a lawyer, he had come to like Michael Black, who had been privately educated in magic and the muggle education system before joining the muggle Royal Marines, fighting in multiple theatres of war before leaving to study law.

They talked amiably as they walked along the corridor, though Shacklebolt couldn't help but feel his colleagues were being overly obvious with their curious glances and knew that he would face his own questioning when he got back. By Merlin he was tired, all he wanted to do was go home and instead he was going to have to answer all the inane questions from the others in the office before working through the night on the inevitable piles of paperwork that followed an event like this.

As they entered the lift and he hit the button for the entrance hall, Shacklebolt turned to his companion.

"One last question for you, off the record now." Michael raised an eyebrow and waited for it to come. "Your name, Black... No relation to Sirius Black are you?" there was a brief pause.

"Never met the man I'm afraid. Black is a fairly common name though, both magical and muggle... Why, who is he?"

"Oh, never mind. He was a traitor in the last war, currently rotting in prison for killing several people. Caught him red-handed in the end, didn't even bother with a trial." There was a slight pause as Michael absorbed the information.

"Huh... So you think I'm related to a mass murderer?"

"No! Not at all, it's just the name. Thought I'd double-check before the press jumped on you though."

"Oh. Thanks for the heads up."

The conversation stopped as the doors opened and the two men made their way across the lobby to the apparition point. As soon as they stepped out, Rita Skeeter and her pet photographer bustled across the hallway towards them. Michael steeped smartly behind Shacklebolt's larger frame, carefully blocking the photographer's shot, guiding the Auror carefully to keep him between them. Shacklebolt allowed himself a small smile and picked up the pace.

"Cooeee! Mr Black was it? Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet, we'd just love to hear your opinion on what happened today." The sickly tones grated against both men's nerves and they picked up the pace still further, forcing the reporter and her photographer into an awkward half run that resulted in the photographer tripping over his own feet, the camera falling to the floor with a loud thud.

"For now Miss Skeeter, no comment. I intend to head back home to rest after a busy day. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course deary, that's fine" huffed Rita, sounding as though it was anything other than fine. "Let me know when you'd like to tell us your story!"

Michael grunted in acknowledgement and pushed past her to the apparition point.

"Thank you for your help Mr Black. If there's anything else, we'll be in touch." Shacklebolt shook the man's hand and carefully blocked the photographer's shot again as he rushed up to them. Michael grinned and nodded his thanks.

"My pleasure, hope the paper work doesn't keep you too long." Shacklebolt groaned at the thought and raised his hand in farewell. He turned back towards the lift and was blinded by the flash of camera. By the time he had rubbed the vision back into his eyes, Rita Skeeter was looking at him hungrily as she readied her quick-quotes quill.

"So Auror Shacklebolt, what do you have to say about these momentous events and do you have anything to add about the wizarding world's latest saviour?"

A carefully blank expression went across Shacklebolt's face as he recited the standard response to the press they'd been told to rehearse since the first day of training.

"Investigations are currently continuing into the events in Diagon Alley earlier today. I can confirm that civilian casualties were fortunately limited though as yet no names are being released out of respect for their families. Further statements will be issued in due course. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He strode off towards the lifts, leaving a pouting reporter and camera man in his wake getting halfway there before realising that Michael Black hadn't provided an answer to his last question.


	4. Chapter 4

It was early evening by the time Michael apparated to eye end of the driveway towards his family home, allowing himself to truly relax for the first time since the Death Eaters had appeared and ruined what had started of as a very pleasant day. He took a seat on the bench that lead up the pathway and let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing, exhaling the stress that had built up throughout the day, breathing in the calming smell of the evening countryside.

He pushed himself to his feet and continued up the path, smiling at his mother who stood in the doorway with arms folded and a look of mixed concern and disapproval on her face.

"Well?" She asked him. Michael smiled tiredly at his mother. Nearly sixty, Sofia Black looked closer to forty and was a striking woman, still turning as many heads of the younger men when she went shopping in the local town as she had in her youth.

"I'm ok, Ma. We're all ok." She stopped him with a hand on his arm and looked up, all disapproval disappearing and the obvious worry she had felt since Sarah and Sam had returned with news of the attack but not with Michael showing itself in the force of her embrace. After a little while Michael gently extracted himself from the hug and held his mum at arm's length giving her a gentle smile.

"Come on now, let's head in. And dry your eyes first yeah? Can't have you bawling all over me like when I got back from my first tour again now can we?"

She smacked him lightly on the arm and wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to hide a small smile.

"Should have taught you some manners, teasing your old mum like that. You're not too old for a spanking you know."

Michael grinned and wrapped an arm round her shoulders, leading her inside. His father sat at the table, an older, bespectacled, and shorter version of Michael with a smattering of grey around his temples that turned into a well-trimmed salt and pepper beard and moustache. He raised an eyebrow in silent question which Michael answered with a nod, while his mother gave him a quick squeeze around the waist before moving off to set the kettle on the old cooker.

Just as he was opening his mouth to talk, Tobias Black raised a finger to his lips, nodding his head to the open door into the sitting room. Michael smiled to see his sister and nephew asleep on the sofa, Sarah with her arms protectively wrapped around her son who would have been mortified if anyone had seen him, having done his best to convince everyone how grown up he could be all summer. The hell-hound puppy was curled up with them and stuck its head up to eye Michael carefully before opening its jaws wide in a long yawn and tucking its nose back under Sam's arm. He carefully closed the door, turning back to his father.

"Please tell me you have a photo of them like that?" Michael asked in a soft voice.

Tobias grinned and pointed at the camera on the side.

"What do you think, big prints we can use as wrapping paper for the next time we end him a parcel at school?" Both men smirked at the thought.

"Don't you dare. Remember, I've got similar photos of the both of you, and I'm sure any publisher would sell their daughter for a photo of the saviour of Diagon Alley in his nappy."

Michael paled at the thought while his father smothered a laugh, apologising to his wife as she set the tea-pot down with a cup for her and her husband and a large mug emblazoned with the legend _per mare, per terram_ for her son, before she began bustling quietly around the kitchen.

"Right then Mikey-boy, why don't you tell us what happened?"

Michael wrapped his hands around the large mug of sweet tea and began running through the events of the day for the second time. Fortunately this time was faster, no questions like did you really have to kill them or why didn't you try to take them alive, just his parents quietly listening to his account. There was a slight pause when his mother made him stop talking and eat the large plate of chicken lasagna and vegetables in front of him, continuing even as he mopped up the rest of the sauce with a doorstop slice of bread and butter.

When he finally got to the end of his account there was a slight pause before Sofia made the first comment.

"You should be careful, especially with that first curse. Don't want to give them any chance to accuse you of dark magic before we get a chance to build a more positive image with the press."

Michael grinned.

"Don't worry about it - that's not really a curse, a mate of mine in Africa taught me that, they use it for mining to crack through rocks. Turns out it works pretty well on bones too."

Sofia hmmed and frowned, not sharing the smile. Tobias looked at his son over the top of his glasses.

"The whipping spell worked as expected then?"

"Like a dream. Who would have thought your hours of watching Indiana Jones films would actually be of benefit?"

Tobias snorted in amusement his wife rolling her eyes and finally allowed a smile to cross her face.

"Please don't encourage your father, he's bad enough as it is. Next he'll be trying to create a light sabre spell." Michael grinned and his father adopted a wistful expression.

"Now there's a thought..."

The door behind them creaked open and Michael turned to see his sister rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"How're you feeling pet?" Asked Tobias.

Sarah gave a long yawned and stretched her head from side to side against the kinks from sleeping on the sofa.

"Tired. But better than I was thanks, that potion seemed to do the trick. How're you doing Mike?"

He gave his sister a tired smile.

"Same. Glad to see you're ok though sis. The Cruciatus is never fun."

Sarah shivered slightly at the memory.

"No. No it definitely isn't." They all gave her sympathetic smiles and words of support as Sam appeared in the doorway next to her unleashing a long yawn that set them all off.

"Hey uncle Mike." Sam yawned again. "When did you get back?"

"Couple of hours ago, I was just telling granddad about the attack. What are you doing up anyway? Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" Sam looked sleepily at the clock on the kitchen wall that showed a little after midnight, eyes widening a little before he yawned again.

"Yeah, guess so." Eyes drooping he bid his family a good night and made his way up to bed.

Tobias stood and reached into a cupboard, pulling out four glasses and a bottle of Ogden's finest, pouring each a stiff measure.

"Now then." Asked the patriarch of the family. "Are we all ready for what's coming next?"

"Copious amounts of fire-whiskey tonight, everlasting fame tomorrow, never having to pay for my own drinks or struggle to find a date ever again?" Asked Michael hopefully. Snorts of amusement came from around the table.

"You could piss Phoenix tears and you'd still struggle to find a date" teased his sister and he stuck his tongue out in reply, glad she was making jokes again.

"Agreed." Smiled Tobias. "Though who knows, maybe when we finish all this one of the less ugly Bulstrode's would agree to be seen in public with you."

"They really have less ugly ones?" Queried Michael.

"No" Said his mother, joining with the ribbing of her son. "But they're a proud family, so maybe we should set our sights a little lower..."

Michael grumbled against the jokes at his expense.

"You mentioned something about what's coming next, father." He prompted, eager to change the subject now that everyone was arrayed against him.


	5. Chapter 5

The following day, Michael rose as the sky was beginning to lighten, setting off for a run to ease the aches of the day before, slowly building the pace until he was nearly sprinting for the last five minutes. He moved into the barn to begin stretches and a short weights routine before returning to the house dripping with sweat, to find Sofia cooking breakfast. He inhaled deeply and made appreciative noises.

"Shower then breakfast. You might be the hero of the moment for saving Sam and Sarah, but you still stink. Go, it'll be ready when you're done." She waved him out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. His mother was as good as her word and by the time he was back the table was groaning with breakfast foods, a treat for her family after the trauma of the day before. Once everyone had eaten and the table cleared away, Tobias led Michael into the study, pointing at the desk.

"Right, let's get these letters sent, and then we can really get moving. I'm sorry for what happened to Sarah and Sam, you know we wanted to keep Sam out of this, but it's silly to waste this sort of opportunity." Michael nodded in agreement. "Now, here's what we need to say..."

Several miles further south, a building that had been empty for years was now back in use.

"Tell me Kingsley, what do you make of this Michael Black?" The rest of the Order waited eagerly for the Auror's answers, the subject of their attention taking a careful sip from the cup of tea and considered his answer. He looked around the table in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place before waving his half full cup towards Molly and Arthur Weasley.

"You saw him first, lets start there and then I'll fill in with what I learned afterwards."

Molly looked at her husband, unsure of what to say about the man who had killed so freely and yet had saved two of her children.

"He's dangerous, that's not in any doubt." Began Arthur, also struggling to put his thoughts to words. "But I don't think he's dark, or a threat to us. He reacted when his sister was hit by the Cruciatus curse and that prompted the use of his semi-dark curse... what?" He'd spotted the small smile on Shacklebolt's face.

"It wasn't a dark curse. Not really a curse at all, actually. Carry on though, I'll explain when you're done." Arthur nodded.

"After that, he used standard curses and a type of muggle wand that fires small bits of metal at very high-speed, stopping the two Death Eaters that nearly got Fred and George" At this Molly sniffed loudly and dabbed at her eyes with a hanky. Arthur put a comforting hand on his wife's and carried on. "he seemed to use them quite well together, I'd say probably military trained, I'd think Auror were it not for the muggle wand, so probably foreign. Maybe a hit wizard?" He looked at Shacklebolt for confirmation and frowned at the smile and shake of the head he got in response. "Anyway, he pushed me inside the shop with the others and cast a locking charm on the door that I didn't recognise. I assumed he was planning to hold them off until the Aurors arrived, but less than two minutes later he was banging on the door shouting "all clear" and there were another four dead Death Eaters in the street. That's..." he paused to count.

"Nine" supplied Shacklebolt.

"Nine dead Death Eaters. In less than five minutes." Mad-Eye Moody gave an appreciative smirk, stark contrast to the frowns and murmurs of disapproval from almost everyone else at the table.

"Hmm." Dumbledore frowned, concerned at the thought of another killer on the loose that he had no control over. "What was he like afterwards? Any shakes, any regrets?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not from what I saw, his main concern was for his sister and nephew, pushed straight past me to make sure they were ok. He didn't seem overly concerned about what had happened, just that they were all right."

"The twins liked him." Said Molly. Everyone turned to look at her as she had just said she'd seen Michael Black bathing in blood and torturing puppies. She bristled in indignation. "They're a good judge of character! And he saved their lives, so he's earned my approval too. What's more, you might not like that those men are dead Albus, but I'll remind you that they were throwing torture and killing curses out like ticklers and bat bogey hexes."

"Of course Molly, no one is criticising him for saving the twins, we're all glad that they, and the rest of the family are ok." Soothed Dumbledore. "How did Harry and Hermione take it?" Molly allowed a small smile.

"They're ok now. A little shaken up, but they were already in the bookstore before the Death Eaters arrived and didn't see anything. We were all able to use the Floo in Flourish and Blott's too, so the never went back to the street." Dumbledore smiled over his half-moon glasses.

"And the sister and the nephew of Mr Black?"

"Lovely pair weren't they Arthur?" Molly continued. "Sarah took a Cruciatus from the first one, if only a little blast of it. Couldn't stop shaking till her brother got back poor thing, but she kept herself together for her Sam, he's starting at Hogwarts this term, so you'll be able to make your opinion of him then."

"Nice lad" agreed Arthur, "I think the twins have decided to adopt him by way of thanking Mr Black." He paused and gave a rueful chuckle, while Minerva McGonagall groaned, prompting further smiles about the table "Though he might not be too grateful for that of course!"

"And what was your assessment Kingsley?" Dumbledore turned back to the Auror and once again all focus was on Shacklebolt.

"Well, you got some of it right Arthur" he began. "He is dangerous and he is very well-trained, but not foreign. Home schooled in magic by his parents, a Tobias and Sophia Black, he went to a local muggle school until eighteen. Apparently they didn't want to send either of their kids to Hogwarts – I didn't ask why. Left school and then joined the Royal Marines, a muggle fighting force, served for ten years before being medically discharged." He paused to put a thin folder on the table before continuing. "Interestingly our source in the muggle military wasn't able to get full access to his file. I have an abridged copy of it here, but it doesn't make for very interesting reading. It seems that he spent most of his time working as a swimmer-canoeist at their base near Poole before leaving a few months ago. Since then he tells me he's done some work for his father, a lawyer who works both muggle and magical cases, though I got the impression he was rather bored." Shacklebolt looked around the table at various uninterested faces. The only people who were paying much attention at all were Dumbledore, who looked mildly concerned, and Alastor Moody, whose expression was unreadable.

"Fascinating." Drawled Snape. "I'm sure we're all very interested in a muggle soldiers' career paddling round in little boats. Now tell us about what happened yesterday and perhaps explain why you didn't arrest him for the murder of several pure-blood wizards."

Angry grumbles against Snape's viewpoint came from various throats around the table, though everyone seemed eager to hear more of the events that had bought Michael black to their attention. Ignoring Snape, Shacklebolt continued.

"Well the first spell he used against the man who Crucioed his sister wasn't actually a curse, but a spell typically used in mining for magical ores to break rocks, or by butchers breaking down carcasses - he said he learned it from a wizard in Africa. Either way, it caused the man's bones to shatter inside him and then he bled out." At this Molly Weasley looked rather queasy while Moody grinned savagely. "He then combined use of a muggle pistol - typically illegal in the muggle world and he didn't mention how he got it, however my duties cover magical law which doesn't cover the use of muggle fire arms - and blasting or piercing curses. The only other spell of note was a new one that prompted a rope to shoot from the end of his wand that wrapped itself around the neck of one of the Death Eaters. Additional charms incorporated into the spell reduced the man's weight and enabled Black to use him as a sort of flail, crushing two further Death Eaters while the violent movement broke the first man's neck." Shacklebolt looked around the table. Molly was now positively white and looked as though she might vomit into her handbag, in contrast to Moody, who was still smiling and nodding in appreciation. Dumbledore cleared his throat, gaining the attention of those that sat around the table.

"Did he say anything about what he was planning next? And did you find out if he's a member of the noble house of Black or if the name is just a coincidence?"

Moody frowned and grumbled his first words of the evening, "no such thing as coincidence."

"No words as to any particular plans other than the work he'd been doing for his father. As to their status with the Black family, I didn't recognise him or his father's name - Tobias?" he glanced around the room, receiving various shaken heads stating that they had no knowledge of it either "though when I asked if he was any relationship to Sirius Black he simply said that he had never met the man."

Dumbledore's frown now matched Alastor's. Murmurs and concerned comments passed around the table as the members of the Order remembered the events of e man they had all considered a friend and who's betrayal had ended the last war.

"I think" said Dumbledore gravely "that we shall have to pay very close attention to mr. Black."


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr Black!" Gushed the rotund man in the obnoxious suit. Michael cringed inwardly at the meeting's necessity, accepting the enthusiastic hand shake and the offered seat, casting an appraising eye over the lavishly furnished office. "So glad you got in contact, and may I say how grateful we all are for your swift actions of yesterday."

"Not at all sir, I was merely doing what I had to, to protect innocent lives. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to hold one of them so that your Aurors could question them about any other attacks that they might be planning." The man waved him away.

"Nonsense, we will catch any that try something similar, don't you worry. All this nonsense about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning is just vicious rumour mongering by those seeking to destabilise the ministry. Utter tosh I assure you!"

"Sorry Minister, rumours about who returning?" Asked Michael innocently. Cornelius Fudged frowned uncomfortably.

"You-Know-Who..." The chubby little man tried to clarify, prompting the opinion Michael had of him to drop even further. Surely he couldn't be so hypocritical to deny Voldemort's return and yet still be too scared to call him by his name.

"Um..." Michael shrugged hopelessly. "I'm afraid I haven't spent much time in the magical world these last few years."

"The uh... The Dark Lord..." Fudge trailed off, looking beseechingly at the bodyguards who shifted uncomfortably by the door.

"Ah!" Cried Michael, deciding to put the clown of a minister out of his misery. "You mean Voldemort" he said, overemphasising the name and taking perverse pleasure in the flinches this elicited from the other men in the room and the sickly expression that passed across the face of the rather vapid secretary who was also present.

Fudge coughed awkwardly.

"Yes... Vol..." He trailed off. "Him." He finished helplessly.

Michael grinned cheerfully, thinking how much fun he could have with this if he had a bit more time.

"Well then, if you're certain it's just rumours, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about!" The room relaxed a little and Fudge gave a weak smile. "But as to the standing of the ministry, I have an idea that may work to both our advantages..." He trailed off and the minister leant forwards in interest. "Though perhaps we should discuss this in private."

Michael glanced towards the secretary and Fudge nodded in understanding, quickly dismissing both her and the body guards. _Idiot_, thought Michael.

When they were alone he leant forwards to outline his plan and left less than an hour later, almost disappointed at how easy it was to manipulate the man supposedly in charge of magical Britain. He bade the minister farewell, promising the man they would talk again soon, moving to the apparition point with the signed approval for his next meeting clutched in his hand.

The emancipated dog lay curled miserably in the corner of the stone room, eyes closed to the cold stone walls that had been pretty much all it had seen for the last eleven years. It cracked an eye open as it sensed a change outside the small room sniffing carefully at the air.

_Visitors_ thought the mind inside the dog.

Suddenly a man sat where the dog had been, back resting against the wall. As skinny as the dog had been with the same sad look in his eye, he rose to his feet stretching the tall frame as much as he could in the cramped cell.

"Not for me" he mumbled, resignation more than sadness in his voice. He had become used to the disappointment in the first two years he had spent in Azkaban and knew he would most likely die in the cell without seeing another human other than the hands of the guards that pushed the sub-par food through the small hatch in the door. Still, he could appreciate the rare opportunity to at least be human without the Dementors affecting him, enjoying the effect of the Patronus charm that was protecting the visitor while it lasted.

Then came a noise that he had long ago given up on hearing. Rusty bolts at his door cleared their housing, the muttered cursing of the auror at the stiffness of the unused locks clearly audible. The haggard man looked towards the doorway with uncertainty, wondering who on earth would come to visit him after all these years. The door creaked open on rusty hinges, revealing a shabbily dressed auror who scowled towards him.

"Sirius Black, you got a visitor." The guard turned away from him. "Bang on the door when you're done, I'll wait at the end of the corridor. Shout if he gives you any trouble."

There was a quiet word of thanks and the visitor moved into the cell. The door squeaked close behind him bolts slamming back into place, leaving the two men in the cell watching each other with curiosity.

"Sirius Black, I presume." The visitor said. Sirius nodded cautiously.

"I'd offer you a seat and a drink, but I'm afraid I've just now run out of... Everything." The visitor raised an amused eyebrow and the prisoner narrowed his eyes, examining his guest closely.

"You look familiar..." His guest grinned.

"Don't know why," he replied "we've never met. However, were I a gambling man, which I am, I'd put money on you declaring me the next best thing to a god before Christmas." He reached out a hand. "Till then you can call me Michael. Or Mike, whichever you prefer."

Sirius cautiously shook the mans hand.

"Charmed." He said, sounding anything but. "May I ask why you're here?"

The smile dropped from his guests face replaced by an inscrutable mask, the hand around his tightening as he tried to pull away and the voice turning cold.

"I wanted to look at the man who sold out his best friends to a child murdering psychopath." Sirius flinched as though he'd been punched in the gut, unable to keep the tears from his cheeks as he met the judgmental gaze of the man in front of him. The memories came flooding back even as he fought them.

Convincing James that Peter would make the better secret keeper as Sirius himself was such an obvious choice, how clever he had felt at the deception. The gut wrenching feeling he had experienced when the knowledge of where the cottage at Godric's Hollow had flooded back in to his consciousness that signified that Peter had betrayed the secret and the horror he had felt on his arrival only seconds after Voldemort had left.

Sirius finally tore his hand from his visitors grasp, vomiting noisily into the corner of his cell, emptying his stomach of its meagre contents. The food supplied to the prisoners of Azkaban tasted no better the second time round. He wiped his lips, spitting the bile from his mouth and turned towards his guest.

Michael crouched and pulled a bottle of water from a pocket in his robes, passing it to the pitiful figure who cautiously accepted, rinsing and spitting again.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." said Michael softly "You understand, I had to make sure?"

Sirius looked back at him, the pain at reliving the memories clear on his face.

"You're a legilimens." Michael nodded.

"Like I said, I had to make sure."

"Make sure of what?" Queried Sirius tiredly.

"That you were innocent." Sirius looked up at him. Michael gave a weak smile "Couldn't very well free you if you were guilty, could we?"

Sirius stared as if his guest had grown a second head and then started eating himself from the feet up.

"You cannot be serious." For the first time since his arrival, a genuine smile spread across Michael's face.

"Serious is my middle name." He helped the dishevelled prisoner to his mattress. "Now, listen carefully..."

An hour later, the guard returned to Sirius Black's cell, banging on the door and calling out that the allocated visiting time was over. He heard acknowledgment from inside and moved back to his post at the end of the passageway. Inside the cell, Michael passed Sirius a small carved stone.

"Keep this with you until we meet again." Sirius looked at it, turning the stone over and tracing the carvings with a dirty fingernail.

"It's a curved Patronus charm." Said Michael by way of explanation. "It's not corporeal so you can't scare them away, but it will keep you from feeling the effect quite so much while you're here and so long as you have it with you, they can't give you the kiss either. Whatever happens, don't let anyone know you have it. As far as most magical ministries are concerned, these things don't exist and I'm pretty sure that if they found out the results would be..." Michael paused as he tried to work out exactly how many magical laws he was breaking by passing the amulet over to a convicted felon "not good." He finished lamely. "Like, really not good." He added for emphasis.

"Like spending over a decade in prison for a crime you didn't commit not good?" Asked Sirius.

Michael thought for a moment.

"Worse." He clarified. There was a pregnant pause as both men considered the possible ramifications of their actions and shivered. They smiled weakly at each other.

"So..." Began Sirius, trailing off into uncertainty.

"Don't get caught."

"No. Negative on the getting caught."

There was a loud banging on the cell door, and they stood as the guard opened the cell with a painful screeching of hinges. The two men stood and shook hands.

"Until next time." Said Michael.

"Next time." Sirius' face suddenly twisted, lips pulling back to expose horribly stained teeth. Michael recoiled in horror and the guard whipped out his wand. Just as quickly, the face returned to normal.

"What?" He asked. "What is it?"

"That... What the hell was that?!" Demanded Michael and the guard almost in unison. Sirius swapped a confused look from one to the other.

"We're you... Were you just smiling?!" Whispered the guard. Sirius nodded nervously.

"Never, ever, do that without warning me again!" Said Michael furiously. Both guard and visitor left the cell, bolts slamming home before footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

A confused Sirius Black stood in the middle of the cell where they had left him, twisting his face once again into that abnormal shape, running his fingers over his face before relaxing, letting his hands fall to his sides. The man disappeared, replaced by a large dog. _I don't see what the fuss is all about_ thought the mind inside the animal. _People used to love my smile._


	7. Chapter 7

Two days after his meetings with the Minister for Magic and Sirius Black, Michael stood outside the muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, dreading what was ahead. If his father hadn't been so adamant about their need for it, he probably would have walked straight past the door and headed home. He sighed with resignation and walked in.

_No rest for the wicked_ taunted his internal monologue

Once inside he blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the change in the light, relaxing ever so slightly when his vision was back to optimum, casting his eyes around the patrons of the bar. Most ignored him completely, a few glanced his way and then returned to their own conversations as he made his way towards the bartender.

"Tom" he greeted the man cordially, receiving a friendly nod in return as the barman spread the dirt around a grimy tankard with an equally grubby rag. "Is she here yet?"

"Yep, up the stairs, second on the right. I'll send up some food in an hour if you aren't done by then." Michael tried a grin that came out more of a grimace.

"Hopefully won't go on for that long. Quick shot and a beer to take with me though?" Tom gave a more genuine smile in return, pouring out a shot of fire whiskey and popping the top off a bottle of butterbeer that he slid across the counter.

"Hope it's not as bad as you think" said Tom as Michael downed his fire whiskey with a quick swallow. The landlord shook his head at payment. "Those are free - for the other day. Not every day we get a hero of magical Britain into my bar!" He sniggered at the scowl that comment got.

"Piss off, Tom" the sniggering didn't stop at the insult, and was only prolonged by the muttered comment about "soulless reporters being worse than a dark lord's whore" as Michael took the bottle and made his way up the stairs.

He plastered a fake smile across his face and pushed open the door.

"Miss Skeeter! A pleasure to finally meet you." Lied Michael, trying not to make his enthusiasm seem too false.

"Rita darling, you must call me Rita, Mr Black" Cooed the reporter, giving a surprisingly firm hand shake.

"Only if you call me Michael" he replied with a smile normally reserved for women ten years younger and at least twice as attractive._ I hate myself so much right now_ said the voice in his head. A blinding flash had Michael blinking stars from his vision as man who looked like he'd be taller lying down than he was standing up took a photograph.

Rita shooed him away and they took their seats at the small table, parchment already laid out, quick quotes quill quivering in anticipation. Rita caught his skeptical glance towards her weapons of choice and laid a flirtatious hand on his arm.

"Ignore them, darling, pretend it's just the two of us..." She trailed off and Michael forced himself to meet her eye.

_Don't say it. Please don't say it._ Begged the voice.

"Surely that should wait at least until our second date Rita?" A girlish giggle accompanied the flush that spread across the reporter's face and the photographer nearly choked as Michael's internal monologue began retching.

_You are such a twat._ Michael couldn't help but agree with the assessment.

"Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing." She cooed. Even the quill seemed to be shocked into inactivity. "But we really must talk about what happened the other day, my readers and I are just desperate to hear from the new hero of the wizarding world."

"Well Rita, for starters I really don't consider myself a hero, I just saw what was happening and had to react. You can't very well stand around screaming when someone's cursing your sister now can you?" Michael began to recount his story again, modified slightly for the press. Occasionally Rita would interrupt with a question, but for the most part seemed happy to listen with rapt attention, quite the opposite to what he had expected. When he finally reached the end of the tale, the woman opposite him let out a little sigh.

"And yet you still don't consider yourself a hero? Such modesty! Were I only twenty years younger..." She trailed off wistfully.

"Then you would be twenty years less beautiful than you are now." Flirted Michael shamelessly. _Fuck this, _said his internal voice. _I'm outta here. Don't speak to me again till you've bathed in bleach and had an industrial strength memory charm._

The giggle and the blush came out again and she playfully swatted his arm while the quotes quill spat a large puddle of ink onto the parchment and dropped to the table, motionless. Rita gave it a poke, before shrugging and activating another.

"So tell me then... sweetheart" another giggle "what's next for the great Michael Black, scourge of dark wizards."

"Well it's funny you should ask that Rita, but I'm actually working on a pet project of mine at the moment." She gazed avidly at him. "You see when Voldemort fell, his greatest supporter was cast, quite rightly into Azkaban. Now, it is to my shame that this supporter and I share a last name, though I confess that up until two days ago, we had never met."

"Sirius Black" breathed Rita. Michael nodded.

"Sirius Black indeed. I have also been made aware that he never received a trail before a wizard court." He raised a hand at the offended expression on Rita's face. "Now, I know what you are thinking, and I'm sure that we are of the same opinion, that he didn't deserve a trial in the first place and has in fact escaped fairly lightly." She nodded, and Michael smiled at her. "However, just because his crimes are so heinous that he should received a Dementor's Kiss on his capture all those years ago, does not mean that he can continue to escape punishment. To that end, I have spoken with the Minister and we have reached an agreement - Sirius Black will have a trial..."

A loud crash and several screams from downstairs interrupted him and the door to their room was blown off the hinges in a shower of splinters, revealing two masked wizards and the snarling face of a large muscular man with robes open to the waist exposing on overly hairy and heavily scarred chest. In an instant Michael was on his feet, wand and gun drawn and pointing at the door while Rita cowered behind the shivering lump of the photographer.

Michael cast a quick but powerful shield over Rita and her photographer while firing repeatedly with the pistol. It was impossible to miss at this close range and the unmasked man staggered against the door frame, even as the wizards cast ineffective spells against Michael's personal shield, before being driven back by the gunfire as well.

The wizards took cover in the corridor while the shirtless man pushed himself upright, three bullet holes grouped closely together in the middle of his chest slowly closing, leaving only small trails of blood.

"Idiot." Snarled the man. "You think that pea shooter can hurt me? I'm..."

"Fenrir Greyback." Interrupted Michael. "I know who you are." He fired again without warning and the slug slammed home between the werewolf's eyes. He collapsed against the far wall, slumping down in a heap. "and it looks like my pea shooter _can_ hurt you after all."

"It doesn't matter you fool!" Cried a voice from the corridor, shaking only a little with nerves. "We've got people downstairs with hostages, throw your wand and weapon out or we'll start killing them all!" Michael was quiet.

He looked at Rita and Bozo who were staring at him in mute horror. He winked reassuringly at them and Rita returned a small smile. _Even now_, said the voice, making its return _you fucking disgust me._

Michael smirked. He lowered the gun, pointing it just to the left of the door at about knee height and fired three quick shots, moving his aim a little further left each time. The final shot elicited a scream, and another figure collapsed on top of the unmoving form of Fenrir Greyback, clutching at the bloodied ruin of its knee.

"I may be a fool, but I'm not fool enough to show my face in public without a little back up! Shout for your friends downstairs, see what happens!" There was a silence apart from the pained groans of the knee-capped Death Eater.

"No need boss!" Came a cry from the corridor.

"Shit." the quiet curse from the last remaining Death Eater accompanied the clatter of the wand being thrown to the floor before two empty hands were thrust into the doorway. A masked figure slowly moved into view, prodded into moving by a wand attached to an unseen figure.

"Got him!" Called Michael, training wand and gun on the man. The other wand was removed, casting stunning and binding charms at the Death Eater and werewolf on the floor. "Now then" Michael addressed the Death Eater "what are we going to do with you?"


	8. Chapter 8

Rita Skeeter found herself speechless for the first time in longer than she cared to remember.

When she had received the request from Michael Black for a sit down to discuss his side of the Diagon Alley attack she had thought it would make for a nice filler in the next days paper. When he began talking of a trial for mass murder and almost universally hated convict Sirius Black, she had thought he meant to force a trial that would lead to Sirius' execution, allowing Michael or his father to take the title of Lord Black, which would have explained his flirting as an attempt at gain Rita's good graces and, through her, public support.

Now she was trying to stop herself from shaking as the subject for tomorrow's front page calmly faced down two masked wizards and the most feared and violent werewolf in recent memory. The quick quotes quill was scratching frantically away next to her, the notes barely legible as the events unfolded before them. Her photographer Bozo was snapping away with his camera seemingly by reflex as his jaw was hanging open in amazement and he was staring wide-eyed over the top of the camera as Michael calmly assessed the now lone Death Eater. He glanced towards them and with a casual wave of his wand dismissed the shield he had erected over them before turning back to the Death Eater.

"Downstairs. Now. Keep your hands where I can see them and if you even breath in a way I consider threatening, you're a dead man." The voice was cold and terrifying like nothing Rita had ever heard, clearly expecting obedience, the figure before him was shaking so much that the nod was barely noticeable. The unconscious and bound shapes of Fenrir Greyback and the kneecapped Death Eater were levitated away by the unseen wizard in the corridor and the survivor turned to follow them down to the bar. Michael turned towards Rita and Bozo. "You may want to see what comes next, Miss Skeeter."

Rita gulped and nodded. On her second attempt she was able to push herself to her feet, nudging Bozo into action before trailing behind them, wondering just what was waiting for them in the bar below.

"Friendlies coming in!" Cried the wizard at the front of their odd little group when they reached the bottom of the stairs and they made their way cautiously into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron.

The scene was like nothing Rita had ever imagined. Towards the bar a small group of patrons and Tom the owner stood watching the proceedings with expressions ranging from shock to amusement. A man and a woman stood slightly away from them and apart from each other watching them carefully, careful to keep both these observers and the rest of the bar within their field of view.

Away from the bar, a space was cleared, tables and chairs pushed to one side. Against the wall, six Death Eaters knelt with their faces towards the wall, hands clasped behind their heads and ankles crossed over each other, guarded by three men and another woman. A man was casting diagnostic and minor healing spells on a seventh Death Eater who was groaning on the floor, his hands held behind his back by two interlinked bracelets carved with a variety of runes. A third woman and a man almost as large as Fenrir stood nearby, the man trying to look innocent and failing miserably, the woman looking as if she was trying to be disapproving but struggling to hide a smile.

Rita looked over the men and women guarding the Death Eaters and watching the civilians. They all looked grim-faced and professional, all equipped with a long metal tubes with a handles at one end and oddly shaped box like attachments hanging beneath them halfway along, carried on straps around their shoulders that kept them within easy reach, wands held loosely but ready to cast. There, noted Rita, the similarities ended, with a variety of ages and choices of dress ranging from strictly magical robes to jeans and t-shirts that wouldn't go amiss in a muggle bar.

"Any problems?" asked Michael.

"None." Replied the hulking man quickly, prompting a snort from the woman. "What?" the man asked peevishly "He turned into a rat and tried to escape so I kicked him into a wall. That's not a problem, that's a problem solved." The statement elicited several chuckles from the group guarding the Death Eaters and even a few nervous smiles from the civilians by the bar.

"A rat?" Michael queried, interest piqued. He moved towards the Death Eater on the floor, removing his mask to show a doughy face contorted in pain. Michael grasped the man's chin, tilting it towards the light to see it better, ignoring the pitiful moans from the man. "Name?"

"Tell them noth-unk" the cry from one of the Death Eaters by the wall was cut off abruptly as one of the guards slammed the mans face viciously against the wall.

"Pipe down, we'll get to you in a bit." Warned the guard as Michael repeated his request for the injured man's name.

"Peter... Peter Pettigrew" the name prompted gasps of recognition from several of the older members at the bar and hurried explanations to their younger companions. The quick quotes quill that had been taking notes for Rita exploded in a small puff of ink and feather pieces, Bozo still winding the film in his camera forwards and taking a new photo as if it were a nervous twitch, jaw hanging slack.

"Well, isn't that interesting." Mused Michael. He turned towards the reporter. "I take it I don't need to explain to you the significance of this?"

Rita mutely shook her head, absently reaching into her handbag, pulling out another quick quotes quill to replace the last one. Michael turned towards the group of men and women stood near the bar, casting a careful eye over them all.

"If everyone ok? No cuts or scrapes or spell damage?" Various shakes of the head and mutters of assurance greeting the inquiry and he gave them a reassuring smile. "Good, that's good. Tom, you ok?" The barman gave a nervous nod. "Good. Now my friends and I are going to take these nasty chaps down to the Ministry of Magic where the Aurors can take care of them, I'm sure that at some point that they will want to speak to you, so if you'd please wait here, the next few rounds will be on me." He tossed a heavy bag towards Tom who caught it expertly despite the shock that still registered on his face. "Anything left over can go towards any damages Tom. Let me know if you need any more." The barman looked around at his barely touched bar but gave a nod and a slightly more genuine smile none the less.

Michael motioned the team towards the Floo network, one of his troops casting a spell over it to hold the gateway open and stop them from reaching any other destination, the large man and the woman who stood with him taking places on either side of the fireplace. The Death Eaters were yanked to their feet and chained together at ankle and wrist with magically binding shackles. The one who had tried to silence Pettigrew earlier now had a small trickle of blood staining the front of his cracked mask. Three of the guards moved to the Floo gateway, readying their weapons and moving through the flames. The head of one popped back through moments later.

"Clear."

The prisoners were pushed roughly forwards and divided into two groups before being escorted through. Michael led the second group, dragging a whimpering Pettigrew by the scruff of his neck, apologising over his shoulder to Rita for having to cut short their interview. When all the prisoners and the last of their team were through, the woman guarding the fireplace slapped the large man on the shoulder without looking at him. He turned abruptly and followed the team through the Floo, the woman hot on his heels, not taking her eyes from the men and women in the bar until she and the flames had disappeared.

The bar was left in a stunned silence before everyone began talking at once. Rita and Bozo snapped out of their trance and with a stunned look towards each other sprinted towards the fireplace, throwing in handfuls of Floo powder and followed on the heels of the men, women and Death Eaters that had gone before them.


	9. Chapter 9

Michael strode across the lobby of the Ministry of Magic, wand in his right hand and a handful of Pettigrew's robes in his left, the squad of his men pushing forwards, the chained Death Eaters forced along while their guards kept a careful watch on both prisoners and the workers and visitors to the Ministry that were staring in amazement. Two nervous Aurors, a man and a young woman with bright pink hair approached and the group came to a halt, Michael pushing forwards to greet them and dragging his captive.

He grinned savagely.

"Michael Black and friends, with some captives for you." They stared at him, jaws working but no sound coming out. "And this is Peter Pettigrew previously thought deceased" he yanked the helpless man to his toes, prompting a startled yelp "please tell the Minister about him especially" he shook Peter again "and that I would like a meeting with him at the earliest possible opportunity." He stopped and waited.

"Umm" said the Auror to the left.

"Err" agreed the one on the right. Michael sighed.

"Go get Auror Shacklebolt." He said to the man who looked nervously at his companion. "Don't worry, we'll wait." The man turned, running towards the lift at the back of the lobby leaving his partner looking nervously at the group in front of her.

An awkward silence spread across the atrium, broken only by the tinkling of water in the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the centre of the hall. Michael gave a weak smile to the young woman in front of him who did her best to return it while her hair cycled through several different colours.

"Nice hair." He said, trying to break the awkwardness. She flushed red and her hair abruptly stopped, halfway between lime green and fluorescent pink as she mumbled her thanks. _Worth a try_ commiserated the voice in his head _it isn't your fault she's simple-minded._

"Bill?!" The shout from one of the internal Floo network entrances to the hall prompted several of the group to raise wands and their metal sticks towards the owner of the voice who stopped abruptly, a look of confusion spreading across his face.

"Shit" muttered one of the guards.

"Something wrong?" whispered the woman to his right.

"My dad" replied Bill Weasley under his breath "I'll speak to you later" he said loudly, dismissing his father before dropping back to a whisper "I am never going to hear the end of this. Bollocks." The woman grinned and motioned towards the others to lower their weapons.

A loud chime from the front of the hallway called all of their attention, the Auror that had left earlier and Kingsley Shacklebolt, accompanied by several others in official looking robes, spilled out into the lobby. All of them were doing their best to keep control of the expressions on their faces to varying degrees of success. Shacklebolt and another man stopped in front of Michael just as Minister Fudge arrived and hurried towards them.

"Mr Black" began Shacklebolt "this is Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour. Sir, this is Michael Black." Scrimgeour looked at the man in front of him who returned his gaze impassively.

"Mr Black" he said by way of recognition, turning to look over the captives, eyes widening at the sight of Peter Pettigrew. Fudge's eyes bulged from their sockets at seeing the ratty little man and the flash of Bozo's camera immortalised the moment for the rest of wizarding kind to see on the front page of tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

"Head Auror Scrimgeour" acknowledged Michael before turning towards Fudge "Minister sir, far be it from my place to dictate your policy, but this man being alive" another shake of Pettigrew prompted a rat like squeak from the captive "would suggest that Sirius Black is innocent." Fudge gulped and glanced towards Scrimgeour, who gave a helpless nod in agreement.

"Buh... but..." began the Minister.

"Of course, you cannot be held responsible for the failings of previous ministries, however, now that he is clearly innocent, perhaps we could welcome him home as a family." Fudge gulped, eyes sliding towards Rita's quill and the obscene amount of parchment covered in ink. He nodded desperately.

"Of course" he said, desperately grasping for the offered escape from this situation. He turned towards Scrimgeour. "Rufus, it would seem that we have an innocent man in our cells... I must demand that you release him immediately." He took a breath and Rufus Scrimgeour relayed the order to two of his guards while Shacklebolt supervised the handover of the Death Eater prisoners from Michael's group.

"As you are aware, Mr Black" continued Fudge, directing his comments towards Rita Skeeter in a desperate attempt to save his political hide "after you made notified us of Lord Black's lack of trial, we had made efforts to redress this glaring oversight." Michael smiled and nodded encouragingly "As such, I believe that Lord Black is currently in the holding cells here as opposed to at Azkaban and so should be free by the end of the day. This is just one of many instances where my administration continue to rectify the wrongs of the previous ministry and build a better world for all of us. I assure you that a thorough investigation shall be conducted into the unnecessary incarceration of your cousin."

"Thank you minister and may I just say how pleasing it is to finally meet a politician who concerned more with doing the right thing than just doing what makes him look good." The minister beamed as Michael shook his hand, Bozo once again snapping away.

_Merlin on acid!_ cried the voice in Michael's head _First that dried up harpy of a reporter, now the toad of a Minister. Can't we just get a lobotomy and put me out of my misery?_

_Thanks for the reminder_ he replied, turning to Rita.

"Miss Skeeter" he began You bell end said the voice "I must apologise for cutting our interview short..."

"Dearie" cut in Rita "if you give me a story like this every time we meet, I will have your children." _Well if he's going to flirt with me for his public image, there's no reason not to have some fun with him_ thought Rita with a small smile.

There was a horrified silence and Pettigrew finally succumbed to his injuries, vomiting over the shoes of the Auror holding his chains. The rat animagus looked up at the man apologetically.

"Please take me away." He whispered pitifully. The Auror nodded grateful for the reason to leave in case Rita came through on her promise, pulling his prisoner to his feet and towards the lift.

"I'll help!" screamed one of the others desperately, clearly worried about the same thing, taking Pettigrew's other arm as they bustled him away crossing paths with a shocked looking Sirius Black who was exiting the lift with two Aurors as escort, chains still at his wrist.

He approached the group where a distracted Rufus Scrimgeour waved his wand, causing the shackles to disappear. Sirius rubbed his wrists, looking round at the horrified expressions on everyone's faces as they stared at Rita Skeeter who was looking worryingly satisfied with herself.

"So... What did I miss?" asked the man who had spent over a decade in prison.


	10. Chapter 10

Michael's team was entertaining a group of trainee Aurors and the now freed Sirius Black with heavily embellished stories of their exploits when their leader returned from his debrief with the Minister for Magic and the Head Auror.

"Boss!" called one of the women on his team seeing his approach.

"Maria, what's going on?" Maria Strauss, the German born witch who acted as his second in command left the group, trailed by Bill Weasley.

"Slight problem... possibly. Bill's dad was in the lobby and has some questions."

"I remember." Michael glanced towards Bill. "Have you been able to speak to him yet?"

Bill shook his head

"Maria said we should wait to check with you."

"OK, tell him whatever you want that isn't going to hurt our interests." Bill nodded, but stayed where he was.

"Was there something else?" The curse-breaker he'd poached from Gringotts rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Are you sure you don't want to come and meet him too? It's just I'm pretty sure he may have a few questions I might not be able to answer..." he trailed off and Michael looked at him incredulously while Maria grinned from behind Bill's shoulder.

"You want me to meet your dad" stated Michael.

"Weeeeelllllll... he's probably Flooed mum as well you see..."

"And?" Bill could barely look him in the eye as a red flush spread across his face and down his neck. Sniggers from the group that had gathered around him caused him to realise that the rest of the team had caught the last part as well.

"She's really scary!" He protested to much amusement from his colleagues. Michael sighed and pushed Bill towards the door.

"Come on then. Are you joining us Maria? I'm sure Bill's mum would love to meet his girlfriend as well. Finally put a face to the name."

Bill froze mid step. His boss and girlfriend turned towards him. This time it was Michael's turn to grin while Maria took on a distinctly frosty look, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend.

"Ummm..." Bill began awkwardly "I... Er... might have not yet... erm... told them... about us... dating... or living together."

"You are so screwed." Said Michael softly as he backed slowly away, grin still in place.

"Eleven and a half months." She said quietly. Their team mates moved subtly out of the way, watching with rapt attention. Confused looks from Aurors and Sirius were met with shakes of the head from the team that discouraged any questions, while the large man who had kicked Peter Pettigrew produced a bag of popcorn from who knew where, taking a large handful before passing it round the circle.

"Now sweetheart..." began Bill pleadingly.

Grins spread across the faces of their audience and a dark-haired witch with an eye-patch pulled out a small notebook and pencil and began jotting down marks in response to various signals from her team mates around the room.

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me you little shit!" Hissed Maria. "We've been dating for eleven and a half months and you haven't even told your parents about me?!"

Sirius Black accepted the bag of popcorn and settled down to watch the show.

"I've not really had a chance?" tried Bill by way of excuse.

"You write to your mother every week." Snarled his girlfriend, her foot beginning to tap the floor with barely restrained anger.

"What're you running the book on?" whispered Sirius to the eye-patched witch, proffering the bag of popcorn.

"How long he spends in the dog house this time" she said, digging a hand in and flicking one of the little white lumps towards her mouth that she caught with an expert crunch. Sirius eyed the skill appreciatively and tried to mimic it only to end up choking awkwardly.

"What's the standard?" asked the pink haired Auror from the lobby sat on the far side of the book-keeper as she slammed Sirius hard on the back.

"Depends on how good the nearest florists or jewellers is. Last time she didn't speak to him for a week, but we were half way through a job and the boss wouldn't let him out to the shops. But then, he had eight days."

"What's left?" asked Sirius, barely able to tear his eyes away from the continuing argument in front of him. One-eye glanced down at the page

"Less than twenty-four hours or a week and a half"

"Put me down for twenty-four hours" said Sirius just as the pink-haired Auror said

"I'll take a week and a half." One-eye made a quick note.

"Tonks" said the pink-haired wizard, offering a hand to one-eye by way of introduction.

"Luisa Rodriguez" Said one-eye, accepting the hand "but everyone calls me Luz." She glanced at Tonks "Did your parents hate you or something?" she asked.

"Apparently" grumbled the Auror. "They named me something vile, so now I go by my last name."

"Nymphadora!" cried Sirius in recognition.

The audience cast irritated glances towards him and Tonks scowled. Luz turned to look at the ex-convict with a critical eye.

"You don't look much like a Nymphadora" she said to Sirius "but I'm not one to judge." A confused look spread across Sirius' face, while Tonks' frown became a grin.

"Wha? I'm Sirius. Sirius Black." he saw the blank looks spread across the two witches faces. "Wrongly imprisoned for over a decade but now free?" he asked, hoping for a reaction. "Literally just released from prison. Like, today. Two hours ago in fact."

Luz leant towards him and sniffed, scrunching her nose in distaste.

"Could you not have had a shower in that time? Or a bath?" Tonks began to snigger. "Maybe just run your head under the tap?"

"Well, Luisa, _Nymphadora_" he stressed the latter's name and the Auror stuck her tongue out at him in response. "as I have nowhere to go and as all my _supposed_ friends refused to even visit me while I was wrongly incarcerated for over a decade, I'm waiting for my mysterious benefactor to finish sorting out a domestic and then yes, yes I will take a bath."

"Whatever you say, Nymphadora." Said Luz to Sirius. "Quite a coincidence you two having the same name, especially one that isn't so common. Are you related?"

"No! I mean yes, we are related, but my name really isn't Nymphadora, it's Sirius Black!" Protested Sirius.

"I didn't know there was someone else in the family named Nymphadora!" Said Tonks joining in with enthusiasm. "I hate the name too, no wonder you prefer people to call you Sirius, people only started taking me seriously when I went by the name Tonks."

"Oh I'm very rarely serious" began Sirius, starting in on his favourite joke.

"So we _should_ call you Nymphadora then?" Interrupted Luz before turning to the young Auror "you can stay as Tonks to avoid the confusion. Besides, Nymphadora here is older, so she's had the name for longer." Luz and Tonks sniggered at Sirius, who looked as if he might cry.

"Right, that's it." Snarled Maria, the argument in front of them had appeared to reach its peak. She snapped her head towards Michael who quickly passed the bag of popcorn back to its owner who folded the top over carefully and tucked it back into his pocket. "Let's go."

"Wait, where am I going?" Asked a confused Michael, having completely lost track of events during the argument.

"Bill's going to introduce the love of his life to his parents" she spat viciously "you're coming to make sure I don't kill him before they start to like me. Bill! Come!" She stalked out of the room, followed by a cheerfully whistling Michael and a Bill Weasley who looked like he was walking to his execution.

Once the door closed behind them, the group burst into laughter, with one exception.

"I get the feeling I'm going not going to come off well with this bet" grumbled Sirius, prompting further laughter from Tonks and Luz, and the rest of the group to compare bets.

A loud cry of "Sirius Black!" Cut through the laughter, and everyone turned towards a tall, ageing wizard dressed in the most horrific robes pointing his wand at Sirius. Michael's team went from laughing and joking to grim-faced with weapons drawn and pointed at the new threat in the blink of an eye, while the Aurors fumbled to pull their wands, only to realise they had no idea about who they should point them at.

Sirius stood slowly, holding his hands out carefully to show that they were empty, face impassive.

"Dumbledore" he replied.

"That's Albus Dumbledore?" Asked the large man with the popcorn, his un-identified metal weapon, twice as large as the others, pulled tightly to his shoulder as he sighted carefully down it towards the old man. "I thought he'd be bigger."

"And younger." Agreed a wizard with a light French accent, wand carefully trained on one of the most respected men in magical Britain.

"Better dress sense." Said one of the others.

"I'm sorry I don't live up to your expectations" reposted Albus Dumbledore, apparently unfazed by the weapons pointed at him and the insulting tone adopted by the men and women holding them. The trainee Aurors shifted uncomfortably, gathering into a small group and looking like they were seriously considering a change in career. "However that man is supposed to be in prison for mass murder, so if you'd kindly lower your weapons so we can escort him back to custody, I'd most appreciate it."

"I thought you'd be smarter." Said Luz, pistol and wand pointed towards Dumbledore "He's innocent. Just got released by the Minister himself. So if _you_ could kindly lower _your_ wand before we have to redecorate the room with OAP, we'd appreciate that."

Murmurs of agreement came from throughout the group and Dumbledore slowly lowered his wand.

"Innocent?" He asked in a whisper "But how can he be innocent?" Weapons and wands were cautiously lowered, looking as though they could be raised again in less than a second, which they could.

"By not doing the crime I was accused of" Said Sirius bitterly "something you might have been aware of if you had thought to ask me maybe... ten years ago?"

Dumbledore slumped into a seat, staring at the group in front of him incredulously.

"Michael Black was pushing for a trial for Sirius when he was attacked by a group of Death Eaters including Peter Pettigrew, he's alive by the way" Tonks added helpfully "so the minister ordered His release. And an investigation as to why no one thought to give him a trial in the first place."

The last part was said with an accusing glare towards Dumbledore.

"Oh." The quiet exclamation prompted Sirius' eyes to bulge.

"'Oh'?! I spent ten years in Azkaban - which is a really unpleasant place by the way - for a crime I didn't commit, and all you can say is 'Oh'?!" Dumbledore looked up sheepishly.

"Umm... Sorry?"

"Fuck. You." Replied Sirius slowly voice shaking with anger.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. He looked around the gathering, seeing no sympathy for him at all. He sighed heavily.

"Yes, I suppose I deserve that."

"Deserved what?" Michael asked from the doorway. A rather confused looking Molly and Arthur Weasley were with them, followed by Bill looking like he'd just won the Wizarding lottery, arm affectionately draped around Maria's shoulders looking for all the world like a different couple than the one that had argued in the cafeteria earlier.

"Sirius was just expressing his feelings towards me on my failings and role in his incarceration." Replied Dumbledore

"Ah. Did he tell you to go fuck yourself?" Enquired Michael politely, earning an outraged gasp from Molly. "I'd have told him to go fuck himself." He added to Sirius and receiving a smile and a nod in return.

"Tyr." Said Sirius.

"You can actually show emotion now old chap" replied Michael with a comforting smile "we won't judge you if you want to have a little cry."

Sirius sighed in exasperation.

"No, idiot. I said Tyr, not tear. T-Y-R. Norse god. That's the one you're closest to right now." He got a confused look from everyone "He said at our first meeting that I would say he's the next best thing to a god by Christmas."

Michael grinned, while Maria and several other members of the team rolled their eyes, Luz groaned and palmed her face.

"You realise he's going to be impossible now don't you, Nymphadora?" said Luz to Sirius.

"Now I'm confused." Interrupted Dumbledore. "Who are you people? And why is she calling you Nymphadora?" He directed the last part towards Luz and Sirius who just looked at each other and grinned.

"Allow me to explain" began Michael. "My name is Michael Sirius Black, and these fine people" he continued, waving an arm to include his team "are all members of Black Security." He paused to survey his team with pride. "But I have no idea as to why he's called Nymphadora, I thought he was Sirius Black."

Author's Note:  
Longest chapter yet, but I couldn't really find a good place to stop it till there. I may well be going back to have a shuffle round of a few bits around later.

Next chapter will see proper introductions of the team that makes up Black Security, so if any of you have any ideas as to particular characters you'd like to see involved, send me a message and I'll work them in if I can.

Also the most entertaining/productive review can have a character named after them and throw in any input as to that character's development/plot direction they want.


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